Album Notes

I used to be able to fly. Way back when, I could shoot lightning from my fingertips and lasers from my eyes. No matter how dangerous things got, I always beat the bad guys and saved the day.

Like most kids, I had an active imagination. Unlike most kids, I never really grew out of it. My playful, childlike creativity just found new outlets –some louder than others.

Picture this: a spunky toddler sporting a shiny new pair of Huggies, a pair of black and white dress shoes from a Michael Jackson video and a cassette tape of Sesame Street jams blaring through two 80’s style speakers. That’s me dancing at age 3. I loved music and unashamedly got my groove on to prove it, only to find myself captured by the unforgiving archives of home video. Not much has changed, except for my dancing—kind of.

Sprawled out on the soft carpet of my bedroom floor, I remember flipping through a magazine. My eye was drawn to a man playing the guitar. With his eyes squinted and lips tightly pursed, he squeezed every ounce of emotion into what he was playing, like a wet sponge. It was pure expression pouring out of the amplifier—I wanted to do that.

Fast-forward a few years, and you’ll see me strumming the riff from “Sunshine of Your Love”. I cracked open my piggy bank to buy a starter electric guitar and have had a sentimental attachment ever since. In Junior high, I’d hang out a lot with guitar geniuses like Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton. It looked like I was headed on course to be a blues-bleeding, lead guitar player.

Then there was a collision.

Poetry was always a strong point for me in school and inevitably it bumped elbows with my love for music. I picked up Dad’s acoustic guitar to ease the transition into songwriting. The rich, warm feel of the instrument grew on me and started to influence the way I played guitar.

Singing also became a part of the picture. My squeaky, early-teen voice was unsure of how to deliver the melodies dancing around in my head. I found safety in the basement: a place where I could make mistakes and sound horrible. New songs were birthed in the basement. They were rough, but they were mine! My excitement was like a shot of courage in the arm and suddenly I couldn’t wait to share those creations with someone else.

That excitement has never died down. I still love playing with words. I still have a passion for making music. More than ever my desire is to step out of the basement with new songs and to share them with as many people as possible.